


I'm Still Breathing

by PurpleWombat14481



Series: Avengers AU [4]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Avengers, Angst, Avengers AU, Kidnapping, M/M, Recovery, Superpowers, Torture, loss of hearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-08-31 07:38:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8569915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleWombat14481/pseuds/PurpleWombat14481
Summary: Part of a group of oddball superheroes just trying to do good, but that don't have the fame of the Avengers or the X-men, Mark didn't think that he had to worry about being kidnapped. He was wrong.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am so so sorry that I haven't finished anything in forever. This is part of the same Avengers AU as all of the other things. I am trying. But life.

 The world was too quiet.

God, that wasn’t something Mark thought he would ever say. Nothing was quiet when your ears could pick up the smallest of faraway sounds. There was always something to listen to. So now, the silence was deafening.  It didn’t help that he had no clue where he was.

The last thing he remembered was the fight. There was some wannabe bad guy harassing people in the park that Mark had passed on his way to get food. He had won, no problem, but as he was about to continue on his way, he felt a searing pain on the back of his head.

But now, he was alone in an empty room, who the fuck knows where. His friends wouldn’t even realize that something was wrong for a while. They’d known he had left for food, and it wasn’t unusual for him to wander around the city for hours. It probably hadn’t even occurred to them to be worried yet **.** Mark was totally by himself to try and find a way out.

He was trying not to panic. His breathing was coming faster and his heart was pounding.

Mark was crouched in a corner, trying to focus on his breathing, when feet appeared in front of him. Fuck. He hadn’t even really registered that there was a door in the room, much less considered that he wasn’t alone. His hair was tugged, hard, so that he was forced to look up into dark eyes. The man before him said something that he couldn’t hear, and had no way to decipher. Unfortunately, expert lip reading was not one of Mark’s mutations.

The expression on Mark’s face and the lack of verbal response must have been exactly what the man wanted, because he smirked before saying something else. For a second, Mark was confused as to why he would bother, seeing as he couldn’t hear, but then he realized that there were more people in the room. Standing just inside of the open door were two women, a blonde and a redhead, dressed in black. Both of them looked like they could easily kick Mark’s ass.

There was another sharp pull on his hair, and Mark’s attention was brought back to the man. The man who, now that Mark was paying attention, looked more than a little unhinged. Well, so much for any chance that these people weren’t going to hurt him.

 _Relax,_ a feminine voice said directly into his mind. Great. A telepath. _We won’t hurt you if you cooperate._

 _That’s what the bad guys always say, and it’s never true._ He projected right back, just before the mental connection was closed. Not that reopening it would have been a problem, but it was better to keep some things secret, just in case.

 _Knowledgeable in the ways of telepaths are we? Let’s see how long that lasts._ The redheaded woman smirked, confirming which one of them was the telepath. At least Mark had figured one thing out. The woman didn’t tell him anything else, and Mark was alone in his brain once more.

It was a little messed up that he had been almost comforted by someone else’s voice in his head, but at least it meant that it would still be possible for him to communicate with people, if and when he got out.

The man pulled Mark to his feet. He felt dizzy for a second. For the first time he realized that he was hungry, and his throat was dry. Maybe he’d been there longer than he’d thought. Maybe his friends had already started to look for him. That was the first positive thing to cross his mind since he’d woken up.

The man must not have liked whatever expression crossed his face, because the next thing Mark knew, he was being punched. The man had let him go, so he slumped back into the wall. Mark pressed a hand to his cheek. That had hurt. It would most likely leave a bruise too, but at least the punch had missed his nose. A bruised cheek would always be preferable to a broken nose.

Mark could see the man begin to approach again and braced himself the best he could. There was a tense second before the man backed away. He looked slightly disappointed, so Mark could only assume that one of the women had stopped him. Mark didn’t relax at all until the man was a good distance away. He slid down the wall, sitting back down on the ground, not taking his eyes off of the other people in the room. It probably wasn’t the safest position, but Mark didn’t care.

The redheaded woman said something to the other two – god, Mark should really figure out something to call them in his head – and they both left the room, stone faced. A moment later, the blonde woman returned with what looked to be a water bottle and a plastic container in hand. She set both down on the ground near the door. Both women watched him for a second before leaving, closing the door behind them.

The container on the ground looked like it contained food. That meant that these people were feeding him, trying to keep him alive. That generally only happened when people wanted information or money. Mark snorted. He didn’t know anything that could be very useful to anyone. He was part of a ragtag group of mutant friends that wanted to help people. They weren’t part of any superhero teams, and they definitely didn’t have the kind of money that people generally ask for as ransoms. Whoever it was that had had the idea of taking him was going to be severely disappointed.

Of course, neither of those things explained what had happened to his hearing. He was almost certain that the man was behind that one. He had looked far too smug not to be. _Why_ was that necessary though? It just. Didn’t add up. Unless they just liked messing with people. To the extreme.

Mark felt his stomach grumble. It pulled him out of the possible scenarios. After a glance around the room to make sure no one had entered while he was thinking, he got up and walked over to the items by the door. He was right, the plastic container held food. He grabbed the water bottle and the container and went back to the wall. He strategically placed himself across from the door. Not being able to hear it open was a disadvantage, but at least he could keep an eye on it.

Despite how hungry he was, Mark hesitated before eating. He couldn’t be certain that the food wasn’t drugged. The water looked sealed, but he couldn’t be certain about that one either. He eventually decided that he’d rather not die of hunger or dehydration. Fuck caution. The water was just regular bottled water, but in that moment it was the best thing Mark had tasted in a long time. He drank it all in one go. The food, a sandwich, was bland, just a couple slices of meat and cheese on vaguely stale bread, but he ate it so fast he barely tasted it. It was gone in less than a minute.

And then Mark was alone with just his thoughts and nothing more to distract him. Nothing to keep him from actually freaking out about the loss of his hearing.

Yep. The panic was setting back in. Mark tried his best to push it back. As nice as being able to hear would be, it was slightly more important to focus on getting out alive. Or, at least to make sure his friends could find him if he didn’t. Mark felt sick at the thought. It was a real possibility that he would never make it home. He didn’t know what the people who’d taken him wanted. For all he knew, they just wanted to mess with him a bit before killing him, get some fun in. He was at a total disadvantage, for everything.

Well, at least he wasn’t panicking about being suddenly deaf anymore. Not that panicking about his life was any better. It was doing nothing but making him dizzy. Was that a normal effect of fear? Mark didn’t know. But he had to lie down.

The ground was cold and hard under him. There was nothing for him to put his head on, unless he wanted to use the water bottle, and that didn’t seem like it would be any more comfortable than the ground. Mark eventually settled for a position half against the wall. It didn’t help very much with the dizziness, and he knew that his neck was going to hate him for the position, but it was the most comfortable way he could find to rest in the cold, empty room. He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there before his eyes slid closed, but soon he was slipping into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took so long. I have a lot of the next two chapters written, so they shouldn't take too long as long as school doesn't get in the way of writing again. And as long as writers block doesn't strike again

Mark woke up again feeling groggy and uncoordinated. His neck hurt, his back hurt, but he was still alive. He couldn’t tell how long he’d been out. It could have been hours or it could have been days. Maybe his friends would be coming for him. He had to hope at least.

Mark decided that he had to hold out as long as possible, so that his friends would have time to find him. It shouldn’t be too difficult. As he woke up more, Mark decided that his biggest threats at the moment were boredom and the panic lying just under his skin.

At least the isolation meant he could attempt to ignore his deafness. He could just pretend that the silence was due to him being the only thing in the room. The small square room with no windows and a hidden door.

The door.

Maybe he could find it and get out. Not having to be saved would be wonderful. Mark could almost taste freedom as he stood up. He wobbled or a second and slammed a hand against the wall to stabilize himself. He felt his palm get scraped up. Mark added that to his mental list of soreness and injuries. 

He slowly walked around the room, hands feeling the wall for a hidden latch or something. On the wall opposite of where mark woke up, he felt cracks. He followed them with his hands and realized that they were the outline of the door. He’d found it. Hope bubbled up within him, but it soon died as he tried to push the door open and it didn’t budge. So much for freeing himself.

He just felt so useless sitting in the room and waiting to be rescued. Mark made his way to one of the corners furthest from the door. Curling up, he settled down to watch it. If he couldn’t free himself, the least he could do was avoid getting caught off guard when his captors returned. 

Mark sighed and rubbed at his ears. He was seriously starting to need to know what they had done to cause the hearing loss. He could hear before he’d been captured, and nothing had happened to him in the fight. It felt like he’d been in the room long enough for his hearing to have started to return, at least a little. Accelerated healing should have solved that problem. So what was even going on?

The people who took him must have done something while he was unconscious, something bad enough to overcome his healing factor. That was a scary thought. If the bad guys could neutralize his healing, who knows what other powers they could combat. 

Mark didn’t want to be part of the reason the X-Men were defeated. He knew it might be an irrational jump, but what if the bad guys (god he really needed something else to call them) took their success and the things they learned and used it against the heroes. People were already suspicious of him and his friends, not because they’d done anything, but just because they were young. If he was part of the downfall of the real heroes, no matter how unwillingly, people would never trust them again. Mark didn’t want that. He couldn’t do that to his friends and be okay. He knew they would forgive him, no matter what,  _ Jackson _ would forgive him no matter what, but he couldn’t, he wouldn’t -- 

He needed to calm down. It was just so difficult. His thoughts just kept coming back to his friends. They must have started looking for him, Mark hoped. They were also probably freaking the fuck out. 

One time Bam had forgotten to tell them that he was going home for a night and Jinyoung had been worried sick. Mark could easily see him pacing and tugging at his hair, with Youngjae unable to calm him down. Jaebum was probably angry at himself for not being able to keep them all safe, perhaps he locked himself in the basement in case he loses control of his powers. Yugyeom and Bam were probably the most put together, after Youngjae. They handled things well, despite being relatively new to the world of heroes. 

Mark didn’t even want to imagine how much Jackson must be blaming himself. He curled up tighter, trying to fend off any more thoughts about his friends. It was hard, and made him feel even more lonely and isolated, but it was better than guilt.

Mark knew that getting kidnapped wasn’t his fault. He really did. But he couldn’t help but think he could have done something more to have prevented it. He should be at home, not alone in a bleak room feeling guilty.

Sighing, Mark pushed himself back up to sit against the wall. It was then that he noticed that he was no longer alone in the room. Both women were watching him from the doorway. The man was nowhere to be seen, at least, not for the moment. Mark held his breath, waiting to see what they were going to do. The women had yet to acknowledge his attention on them. Their lips were moving and Mark wondered if they were talking about him.

For a second, Mark considered reaching out with his mind and trying to figure out their thoughts. Then he remembered that one of them was a telepath. He would be detected almost instantly. His secret would then be out, and he’d have nothing else that he could possibly surprise them with later.

Then the man walked in, and he looked angry. Mark tried to back away, but he was already sitting against the wall. There was nowhere he could go. The women watched almost disinterestedly as Mark was roughly forced to stand. He was barely on his feet before the first blow came. A fist connected with his cheek, hard. Mark stumbled back and felt his hands scrape against the wall. The man sneered at him, which made Mark uneasy. He didn’t like it.

A rough hand on his arm tugged Mark back away from the wall, so that he was standing unsteadily once more. Despite his being unbalanced, Mark managed to use his free arm to block the next punch coming his way. Thank god for combat muscle memory. The man’s eyes narrowed when Mark blocked the next punch as well. 

Mark should have been nervous at the look, but god, fighting back felt so good. He managed to block a few more attacks before one finally landed and he was thrown against the wall once more. His head hit, hard, and he was dazed for a second. The man took the opportunity to grab his collar and haul him back to his feet. 

The women intervened before the man could do anything more than shake Mark a bit. He seemed to try to fight them, but a significant look from the redhead stopped his struggling. Slowly, the man trudged out of the room once he was released, only to return with what looked the same sandwich container and water bottle that Mark had received the day (Night? Afternoon? How much time had even passed?) before. 

Mark stood defiantly where he had been released as the food was thrown into one of the corners opposite of the door. He didn’t move until his captors had left. He waited until the door was gone completely, no outline to be seen, before he moved to the corner. Soon after everything disappeared, Mark felt drowsy. He curled up in the same corner and fell asleep.  


End file.
